Chapter 16

Fief Masbolle was situated east of the Tellerun river, about half way between Corus and Arenaver, near Barony Olau. It took Dom several days to reach his home fief, meeting a spell of heavy rain and muddy conditions on the way. The road to Masbolle Castle was lined with rows upon rows of grape vines, and fields for other food crops closer to the village. By this time of year the grapes would all be in, and now the juice would be fermenting in big oak barrels in the castle's vast cellars. Masbolle's success as a wine-making fief came from the good climate—hot in summer and cool in winter—and its location conveniently close to the Tellerun River for easy transportation of wine barrels by barge to Port Caynn and its trading ships. The family also owned warehouses, cellars, and bottling facilities in Port Caynn, which Dom's uncle Irvin and aunt Julia of Masbolle administered.

When he was a boy, Dom enjoyed staying with his uncle and aunt, who had no children of their own. He would spend his time helping in the warehouse, and if he was good, Irvin would allow him to sample the best vintages—so long as he promised not to tell his aunt. Sometimes he would help his aunt with the bookkeeping and waited on her as she ran errands and negotiated with various merchants and suppliers in the city, learning how the family business worked along the way.

Now that he commanded a company of one hundred men, Dom fully appreciated how much he owed his understanding of strategy and managing people to his time spent observing how his aunt and uncle ran their part of the family business.

His appearance at Masbolle was met with surprise by his family, but serendipitously, his arrival made it the first time his entire immediate family was gathered together in one place in many years. Dom's father, Sir Whilbert, was generally in residence. He had taken a head injury in a riding accident not long after Irenie was born, and while he had never regained his strength and his constitution was weakened, his mind remained sharp. Dom's mother was back from Tyra, along with his brothers Erick and Garret.

Lady Lavinia introduced Dom to Garret's new Tyran wife. Marlis was a dark-haired young woman with hazel eyes and olive skin, who was not at all like what he predicted. If anything, Dom was expecting to find her as glibly charming and frivolous as Garret at his worst—so he was surprised and relieved to find her the opposite. In fact, she seemed to be incredibly sharp, if somewhat reserved, which made him wonder at what in the Goddess' name was going through her head when she got involved with his feckless brother.

Curiosity about this young woman that Garret had married was enough to draw Dom's older sister Katrine from her husband's lands. Alise had been at Masbolle since early spring, and Irenie had returned only two days after the naming ceremony with a smitten Sir Faleron of King's Reach in tow. Dom's mother was in a flutter over the likely prospect of having another daughter married.

"And then, I will only have you two to see settled down," Lady Lavinia informed Dom and Alise one afternoon.

"I should've become a priestess of the Goddess as Maiden instead of a healer," Alise said gloomily when their mother left.

"She's only half serious," Dom drawled. "If she was fully serious, you'd know all about it."

Faleron left them the day following Dom's arrival, and unusually, a few days later both of Dom's parents set out for Corus accompanied by Alise and Irenie. Since his father travelled poorly and couldn't ride on horseback, their trip would be slow and their stay in the capital long. Katrine left soon afterwards to return to her husband's fief. Dom busied himself teaching a group of village boys to fight with swords and patrolled with the castle's men-at-arms. He disregarded the flurry of construction activity in a disused outbuilding until he noticed smoke and a strong heat haze emanating from a newly repaired brick chimney, and Garret's new wife striding about the courtyard wearing a large leather apron over a plain dress, and large leather mitts on her hands. Garret seemed to be busy fetching things for his lady, while Erick paced around observing the activity. When Dom's watch was up, he went to investigate.

Inside the shelter of the roof, Marlis turned an iron rod with a ball of glowing hot material at one end. She shaped one end with a tool and blew into the rod, never letting it stop moving.

"Glass bowing," Erick's voice whispered. "Marlis' family are glass merchants and artisans. She learned the family trade."

Marlis glanced up and smiled in greeting.

"We're making bottles," she offered. "This is a test, of sorts. For the wine," she said, carefully rolling the iron rod on the arm of her wooden chair.

Dom watched a little while longer. Marlis seemed to be so deep in concentration that she worked as if they weren't there. Eventually Dom headed back to the keep with Erick for supper.

"Why is she making bottles for the wine?" Dom asked. "I thought it was mostly transported and sold in barrels, except for what Uncle Irvin and Aunt Julia bottle at Port Caynn."

Erick grinned.

"Most of it will still go that way. But if we bottle the best vintages here where it's made, people will pay a premium. It's easier to assure our most discerning buyers that they are getting the real thing, not some vinegary Marenite slosh passed off as the finest Masbolle vintage by some crooked merchant."

Dom grunted in response. Wine fraud was a constant problem for the fief.

"Anyway, Marlis knows a spell—also a family trade secret—to add to the bottles and corks that will show if the seal has been tampered with, or if the wine has gone bad as sometimes happens," Erick continued, then chuckled. "I think Father's not so mad at Garret anymore. My wife is afraid she's been usurped from her position as the favourite daughter-in-law."

Dom snorted.

"Until just recently she's been his only daughter-in-law. It wasn't a very warm farewell when Marlis left her home, then?"

"About as warm as Chitral Pass in a blizzard," Erick agreed.

To Dom's surprise, they had guests that night.

Raoul and Buri had arrived with their twins and Qasim's squad from Third Company, dropping in on their way to Fief Malorie's Peak. Raoul explained his cunning plan.

"I'm a respectable married man now—don't look at me like that, Buri—and a respectable lord takes seriously his duty to the people of his fief."

"Respectable—tell me another one," drawled Buri.

"So says the woman who finally made me respectable," retorted Raoul.

Buri rolled her eyes and Raoul waved his hands.

"Well, anyway, wouldn't it be a shame if we couldn't make it back to Corus in time for Midwinter festivities?" Raoul asked slyly.

"It'll never fly, you know. Their majesties will see right through your little ploy," Dom teased, grinning. "And won't the Own run to seed without you?"

"Aha—and here we come to the next part of my cunning plan," said Raoul, drawing a package of documents from a leather satchel.

Dom accepted the documents and began breaking the seals.

"Congratulations. You've just been promoted to acting commander of the Own until the roads thaw," Raoul drawled, grinning evilly.

"What about Osbern?" Dom said, gaping.

"On his way to the Drell with Third Company," Raoul said, becoming serious again. "Have you had any news since you left Corus?"

Dom shook his head.

Raoul leaned back and put his hands behind his head.

"The Tusaini king died suddenly about two weeks ago. He's got very ambitious nephews and his only remaining legitimate son is—what did Alanna say?—'a lack wit who should've been demoted to court fool' or something like that," Raoul said.

Dom snorted.

"Laugh all you like," Buri drawled. "But I've seen this kind of thing before. Come spring they will have forgotten about Tyra. The Tusainis will be killing each other."

A/N:

Yeah, I know. It's been a while.